


please don't go (i love you so)

by Pachamama9



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blaise Zabini is a Good Friend, Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Slytherin, Theo's dad is an ass, being a Slytherin is complicated, people are complicated too, so is Blaise's mom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 16:57:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21461431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pachamama9/pseuds/Pachamama9
Summary: Blaise Zabini has known Theodore Nott since they were seven years old.He knows everything about him, from his favorite color to his worst fear.And although Theo has become a notorious bully of Muggleborns and blood traitors, Blaise still loves him.
Relationships: Theodore Nott/Blaise Zabini
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	please don't go (i love you so)

Blaise stared blankly at the newcomers: a massive man with a bushy mustache and his tiny, dark-haired son. He raised his chin as his mother spoke, her voice as slick as the oil in his hair. “Welcome, Mr. Nott. This must be your son. Theodore, is it?”

The other man nudged his son forward. The boy cowered beneath the attention, his hair falling over his face. Like Blaise, Theodore looked nothing like the parent beside him. Unlike his father, who looked to be of Arabic descent, the boy was much lighter, with dark, slanted eyes. Not only did his physical appearance contradict his father’s, but his body language as well. While Mr. Nott was foreboding and muscular, his face set in a permanent frown, Theodore was scrawny and shy, his eyes permanently trained on the ground. They were both seven years old, Blaise knew, but the other boy was much smaller than he was. “Say hello, Theodore,” said Mr. Nott, unable to disguise the threatening tone in his voice.

Theodore scowled and shuffled his feet. “Hello, Mrs. Zabini.”

Blaise’s mother gave the boy’s father a coy smile. “Oh, I’m not married anymore, darling. My poor Roger—he passed away last March.”

“I’m terribly sorry for your loss, Ms. Zabini,” replied Mr. Nott.

Blaise was sick to death of their false smiles and words coated in lies. He wanted to go back outside and hop on his new toy broom. “Mother,” he said calmly, “May I go now?”

His mother knelt to give him a swift kiss on the cheek. “Of course, darling. I’ll call you when it’s time for supper.”

Theodore’s father gave his son another not-so-subtle push. “Go with him, Theodore. Behave.”

Blaise heard a meek “yes, Father” before Theodore scampered after him, both boys bursting to dive into the outdoors. 

“Let’s play Muggles and Wizards!” said Blaise, grabbing his toy broom. “I’ll be the Muggle this time.” He held out the broom to the other boy. “What’s your name again?”

The Nott boy frowned at the magical device in his hands. “Theo,” he replied. He stared oddly at the toy broom.

Blaise felt a bubble of laughter rise in his throat. “It’s a broom, not a wand,” he reminded Theo. “It’s not too hard. Just get on it.”

More blank stares. 

Blaise took the broom back from Theo. “Look, how about I’m the Wizard and you’re the Muggle?”

Theo shrugged. “How do I play?”

First, this kid didn’t know what a toy broom was, and now he didn’t know how to play Muggles and Wizards? “What are you, a Muggle? Why don’t you know how to play?” 

But Theo didn’t answer. He merely shrugged and shuffled his feet.

So Blaise taught him how to play, explaining that the Muggle had to run and hide while the Wizard chased him on the broom. And they played until the sun went down, until Theo was laughing so hard he could barely breathe, until Theo tackled Blaise to the ground, tickling him and squealing, “Got you, got you, Muggle!”

When they finally returned to the Zabini Manor, they snuck into the kitchens, where a house-elf named Tiffy served them milk and pastries slathered with icing. As they sat on the kitchen floor, giggling and filling their mouths with sugar, Blaise felt the happiest he had been in a long time. It wasn’t the false happiness of a dozen Chocolate Frog Cards, happiness that faded in a day. This was the kind of happiness that lingered inside of him for years more.

* * *

Theo’s father and Blaise’s mother continued to host dinners at each other’s manors, week after week, so the boys got to know each other quite well. Although Blaise attended a primary school for purebloods, Theo was homeschooled by his father. So his life almost revolved around Blaise Zabini. Blaise answered all of his unusual questions about the Wizarding world that Theo’s father refused to explain. 

And then Theo asked him. “Why is the Muggle the bad man?” They were sitting against a tree behind Blaise’s home, the sun low in the sky.

Blaise didn’t know what to say. Usually, Theo’s questions were far easier than this. “Because… Because that’s the way it is.”

“But why?”

The grass tickled Blaise’s bare ankles. “Because… Because wizards are better than Muggles.”

Theo pondered this in silence. “Are purebloods better than Muggleborns?”

Blaise knew the answer to this. His mother had pounded it into his brain for as long as he could remember. “Yes.”

“And half-bloods, too?”

“Yes. Why are you asking me this?”

Theo took a deep, shaky breath, and when Blaise turned to look at him, he realized his friend’s face was shining with tears.

Blaise had never encountered someone crying before, not truly. His mother never cried, either. She was a stoic, controlled woman with rare displays of emotion. Even her kisses were mechanical; they never lasted longer than a second or two. He had vague memories of other children crying at primary school, but it was generally a screaming, wailing tantrum over a toy or a paint colour. 

Never was the crying like this: a silent show of grief, like watching a hippogriff keen for its lost foal. Blaise was uncomfortable at the sight, yet strangely entranced. He couldn’t look away. They were nine years old now, but Theo was still scrawny and small. To Blaise, he looked smaller than ever with his arms curled around his knees.

“My mother died yesterday,” he whispered.

Blaise felt like he was pulled apart at the edges, yanked to pieces.

_ “Darling,” said Mother. Her voice was sweet, a spoonful of honey. “There’s something we have to discuss.” _

_ Blaise curled his arms around her leg. “Yes, Mother?” _

_ She pried him away from her calf and sat him down in the chair across from her. “Your father… He passed away last night.” _

_ Blaise frowned. He was hungry. “May I have a biscuit, Mother?” _

_ “Darling…” Her voice was annoyed now, sharp spikes protruding through her words. “I don’t think you understand. Your father is gone.” _

_ Blaise wanted a biscuit, but he tried to pay attention to what his mother was saying. “I don’t understand,” he whined. “Where’s Father?” _

Whap!  _ Mother’s skinny fingers across his face. “Ow, Mother!” _

_ “Don’t be dull, Blaise,” she snapped. “I taught you better than that. Your father’s dead, you understand? Dead. He’s never coming back.” _

Blaise swallowed, hard, trying to suppress the hard stone of pain rising in his throat. “I… I’m sorry, Theo. I didn’t know… I didn’t know you had a mother.” It was true. Whenever Theo has visited his home or  vice versa, there had been no mention or sight of a Mrs. Nott.

Theo’s next three words would quake Blaise’s world for the rest of his life. “She’s a Muggle,” he said. “They never married, not like your parents. Father went on a mission to South Korea nine years ago. He thought she was beautiful, so he gave her a love potion and took her back home with him. He kept her” —Theo choked on his words— “locked in the basement, and when she had me, he let me down there to see her once a day.” 

Blaise’s chest flared wildly with pain. “I… I don’t understand.”

  
  


“She started getting sick a few months ago,” he continued, as if he hadn’t heard him. “And I begged Father to help her, but he wouldn’t. ‘They’re Muggles,’ he told me. ‘Their weakness will be their downfall. We cannot help them.’ And when I cried, he—” Theo shook his head, unable to continue. “Blaise, I don’t know what to  _ do _ .”

“I’m sorry about your mother,” said Blaise. He didn’t feel tears coming like the ones in Theo’s eyes. His tears were frozen solid, whirring in his throat like a swirl of knifelike ice shards. His face was bone-dry, buzzing with… With what? Shame? Pity? Horror? Grief? He didn’t understand it completely, but it felt  _ bad _ . “I really am, I’m sorry.”

Theo shrugged, just like he always did, and said nothing.

* * *

Seven years later, when both Theo and Blaise were sixteen years old, they had long since stopped speaking. Well, speaking as openly as they used to. Although they were both Slytherins, they rarely spoke unless forced to. Slytherin house, unlike the others, was divided into two strict categories: children of Death Eaters with Death Eater supporters, and anti-Death Eater children. No one knew how a Hogwarts house was so politically divided by the decisions of the students’ parents, but it was. As Theo was the son of a blatantly violent Death Eater, he was automatically in the category with the Malfoys, the Goyles, etc. 

Blaise, however, did not fit into either category. His mother was an infamous widow; by this time, she had already had ten different husbands, two of whom had been Death Eaters. As his mother flitted from one side of the War to another, marrying whomever she chose, Blaise did the same as well, remaining out of any political sides of the Slytherin house. He was a loner, and everyone knew it. 

Theo had turned from a shy, scrawny kid with his emotions scrawled across his face, to a hard, six foot teen with no emotions for miles. He went by a new name, now. Teddy or Ted something like that.

And once Blaise found him in the corridor one November night, he knew he had to intervene, for he was the one person that could.

* * *

It was almost curfew, so most Hogwarts students were already in their dorms. Blaise had been visiting a Hufflepuff friend of his, and he was walking back to Slytherin’s dormitory when he heard a low, threatening voice. “Fucking Mudblood,” said the voice. Blaise knew that voice better than anyone.  _ Theo. _

There was a higher, male voice that countered him. “Leave me alone,” said the other, his voice a little shaky.

“You hex me in front of my friends and you expect to just get away with it?” A dark laugh. “No, Mudblood, I’m gonna hex you till you don’t know your own fucking name.”

A flash of orange light from Theo’s wand and then Blaise’s own wand was out, spewing a Shield Charm between them that pinned Theo against the wall. “That’s enough!” Blaise shouted.

The other boy, a blonde Ravenclaw, still cowered beneath Theo’s glare, quivering. He recognized the boy as a fourth year, someone with a big mouth who was irritating but of no harm to anyone. Blaise jerked his head toward the end of the hall. “Get out of here.”

As the Ravenclaw scampered away, whispering gratitude, and Blaise released Theo from his charm, the other boy snarled, “What the hell, Zabini?”

Anger broiled beneath Blaise’s skin, but he kept his calm. “We used to be on a first name basis,  _ Nott _ . Or is it Teddy now?”

Theo came at him with an angry growl, shoving him up against the wall. “Shut the hell up, or I’ll shut your mouth for you. What are you, a blood traitor now? Protecting Mudbloods like him? You think you’re better than me?”

Blaise stared right back into Theo’s furious eyes, completely calm. “I’m not better than anyone. I just don’t like violence.” 

“Fuck you, Zabini,” Theo spat. “You’re a pureblood! Have you forgotten who you are? They’re not like us! They’re weak and pathetic! They’re not worthy to walk on the same ground as us!”

Blaise’s voice was deadly quiet. “I don’t think I’m the one who’s forgotten who he is, Theo.”

Theo’s eyes flared with a dark rage, and his fist barreled into the wall beside Blaise’s head. “You shut your  _ fucking  _ mouth! You don’t know a  _ fucking  _ thing!”

“I know better than anyone, Theo,” said Blaise. His voice was softening now, like a slab of butter in the sun. “You don’t have to put up a facade like this for me. I  _ know  _ you.”

Theo’s gaze was pitch black. “You think because I cried like a baby  _ one fucking time  _ that you know everything about me? Do you? Because you don’t know  _ anything _ !” He tried to push past Blaise and walk away, but the other boy stood in his way.

“Of course I know,” said Blaise softly. “I know your father shaped you to believe that you’re not worthy just because your mother was a Muggle. I know you don’t really want to hurt anyone; you just know your father would hate you if he knew you showed any weakness. I know he tried to beat that weakness out of you. I know he—”

“Shut  _ up!” _ Theo’s fist slammed against Blaise’s face, snapping his head back. 

But Blaise was not done. He rose back to his feet, one hand stifling the blood flowing from his nose. “I know you have to pretend, every day, that you’re something you’re not. I know you hate your father for what he did to your mother. I know sometimes you hate that Muggle part of you so much that you take it out on the Muggleborns and half-bloods you know—”

A strangled cry and another blow that sent Blaise to his knees. “Shut your  _ fucking mouth _ , Blaise!”

But Blaise didn’t shut his fucking mouth. He kept going, spilling facts that he’d known since the day he’d met Theo, until finally… “I know that you are the strongest person I know. I know that you’ve endured far more suffering than I could dream of. I know that…” Blaise hesitated. “I know that you’re a good person, no matter what your father says.”

And with those words, Theo dropped to his knees, racked by sobs like he had been that day in the trees. So Blaise kneeled by him, rubbing his back. “You don’t have to act like this anymore, Theo. I see you, for everything that you are.”

Theo sobbed into his shoulder, and Blaise ran his fingers over the other boy’s hair, soothing him.

Theo was the only person who Blaise had ever truly cared for since his father had died. His mother, his “friends,” his teachers… He didn’t care as long as Theo was okay. And now that Theo was back in his life again… 

A hand on his cheek. His shoulder is wet from Theo’s crying. “Fuck, I made you bleed, Blaise.” 

Blaise pressed his face into Theo’s hand. “It’s okay.” They were sitting in the corridor like idiots now, cloaked in darkness and shrouded in pain. He could hear the portraits snoring softly along the wall, but he could only focus on Theo, sharply, like a camera. 

“ _ Scourgify _ ,” said Theo, cleaning the blood away from Blaise’s face. “ _ Episkey.” _

A swish, numbness curling around his face, and then they were staring, stupid idiots sitting in a Hogwarts corridor and staring at each other, falling headfirst into each others’ eyes. And before Blaise could stop to think, Theo leaned his head forward and kissed him.

His lips were an oxymoron: rough and hard and insistent, yet gentle and soft and uncertain. There was something there between them, some hesitation that made Theo hold back. Blaise’s hand pulled at his neck to bring him closer, closer, closer… 

When they finally pulled away, Theo ran his fingers down the side of Blaise’s face. “I don’t understand,” he said. “You don’t care about anyone, Blaise. Why would you care about me?”

Blaise shifted closer to him and looped his arm around Theo’s neck to pull his face inches from his own. “Because I love you, dumbass.”

Then he kissed him again, and this time Theo didn’t hold back.


End file.
